Unwell
by Golden Disasters
Summary: Draco never really wanted anything but someone to understand him. Songfic to Matchbox 20's "Unwell." HBP-DH.


_All day starin' at the ceilin' makin' friends with shadows on my wall_

Draco Malfoy spent much of his time during the holidays locked in his room. He barely let any light filter in through the curtains, preferring to lie in his bed, staring blankly at the dark shadows flickering on his wall. Sometimes, he liked to pretend that they were his friends, his protectors, watching over him. It wasn't like anyone else would…

_All night hearing voices tellin' me that I should get some sleep_  
_Because tomorrow might be good for somethin'_

Draco Malfoy always knew that hearing voices was never a good thing, even more so in the wizarding world. But somehow, those soft whispers, the ones that comforted him at night? Yeah, those he didn't worry about. In fact, if they ever disappeared, that's when he would worry. That's when he would know that he had surely gone insane.

_Hold on, feelin' like I'm headed for a breakdown _  
_And I don't know why_

No, that was a lie. Of course he knew why. But there was no way he would ever admit it. Especially with the consequences he was facing…

_But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell _  
_I know, right now you can't tell _  
_But stay a while and maybe then you'll see _  
_A different side of me_

He knew he wasn't crazy. He knew it. Even though everyone else around school said there was something wrong with him. Coward, they called him. Murderer. If only one of them would stop and look at him, if only they would listen! They'd see that he was alright. They'd see, he knew it. If only….

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired _  
_I know, right now you don't care _  
_But soon enough you're gonna think of me _  
_And how I used to be, me _

After everything that…that…that he did to him, it would be shocking if Draco weren't mentally impaired. Sometimes, he thought that he could literally feel his mind slipping away from him. There were times, walking down the halls at Hogwarts, when a painful darkness fell over his conscious and all he wanted to do was fall on his knees and scream. But would anyone notice, or do anything? No. He knew that without even having to ponder the fact. He knew that everyone thought him a ferret, a piece of slime. But one day, one day he was sure that someone was going to remember him. The real Draco Malfoy.

_I'm talkin' to myself in public, dodging glances on the train _

He still sat with his "friends" on the Hogwarts Express, but he could feel the wary stares people gave him when they thought he wasn't looking.

_And I know, I know they've all been talkin' about me I can hear them whisper, _  
_and it makes me think _  
_There must be somethin' wrong with me_

Whispers caressed his ears wherever Draco went, like soft paint brushes coated with poison. The words were usually muted when he stepped near; that didn't stop the words from entering his mind. And there they stayed, long after the sounds had died.

_Out of all the hours thinkin', somehow I've lost my mind _

Was it normal for the voices in his head to argue? He never was quite sure...

_But I'm not crazy, _  
_I'm just a little unwell I know, right now you can't tell _  
_But stay a while and maybe then you'll see _  
_A different side of me_  
_ I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired _  
_I know, right now you don't care _  
_But soon enough you're gonna think of me _  
_And how I used to be_

What had he been? A cowardly, brat of a boy? That wasn't the sort of thing you put in a eulogy. Had anybody known him...? Known his favorite colour and why he couldn't stand raspberries? Draco couldn't remember. Maybe this celestial "you" was himself? But who was he, after all?

_I've been talkin' in my sleep _  
_Pretty soon they'll come to get me _  
_Yeah, they're takin' me away_

The time of the siege was coming closer, if his father-estranged from Voldemort's family as of now, but still central in the gossip circles-was to be believed. They'd be coming for him, asking him to betray his childhood; his poor, deadened childhood. Soon enough, all that would be left of his soul would be a green light and whispered words.

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell _  
_I know, right now you can't tell _  
_But stay a while and maybe then you'll see _  
_A different side of me _

The time of his death as being Draco was coming, and not even Crabbe would attend the funeral. Was a friend too much to ask for? Anything, anything at all would be given. If only for a friend.

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired  
I know, right now you don't care  
But soon enough you're gonna think of me

And how I used to be yeah,  
how I used to be How I used to be  
Well, I'm just a little unwell  
How I used to be,  
how I used to be

...I'm just a little unwell...


End file.
